


Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby

by makeitmine



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeitmine/pseuds/makeitmine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing moment on the show: Kurt giving Blaine his New York makeover and finding his boyfriend even hotter now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the [Klaine Prompt Bang Challenge](http://klainepbang.tumblr.com/), where people submitted prompts to be written. I did make one minor change, as this happens during the summer after season 5, so not technically a missing moment. I hope you enjoy this, prompter!
> 
> Most of the outfits I've picked for Blaine come from [here](https://www.pinterest.com/dailyanthem/wwfb/) (as shown: one I didn't use but was inspirational, #2, #1, and #4), and the ultimate one he wears to the party is a mix of pieces from [here](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UTm-3HYZKVA/UbXyOPGr-zI/AAAAAAAAAVs/Pv2R21eiqH4/s1600/Breakout-Summer-dresses-collection-for-Men-fashion-4.jpg).

“Alright, Mr.Hummel, your total today is one hundred fourteen dollars and twenty-seven cents.”

“Great.” Kurt flips his wallet open to hand his debit card to Peter, the owner of his favorite consignment shop. It may be located in Queens, but it’s still worth all the bargains he’s found since he’s moved out here.

“Thank you,” Peter says as he takes the card and swipes it through the reader on his register. “You know, some of these pieces are a little smaller than I’ve seen you getting. Are you cutting down on the cheesecake lately?”

Kurt mock gasps. “Peter, I’m offended!” he says before laughing. “They aren’t for me, actually, they’re for my fiance.”

“Oh, and how is the wonderful Mr. Anderson doing?”

“Very well,” Kurt replies. He knows his face is lit brighter than Times Square at the mention of Blaine, but he’s long past the point of caring. “We have a party invitation for next weekend and I wanted to try a few new pieces on him beforehand.”

Peter nods in understanding, tearing off the merchant receipt that printed and handing it with the card to Kurt to sign. “I hope he enjoys them and you two have a wonderful time at this party.”

“Thank you, Peter.” He swiftly scribbles his signature on the line, hands Peter the slip, and takes the bag. It’s going to be tough juggling it with the three other sacks and garment bag he entered with as he makes his way back to the loft, but he’s a man on a mission. “I’ll see you next month with some of my older fall pieces, okay? And give Eugene my love.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it, Mr. Hummel, and the same for your beloved as well.”

For a late Friday afternoon on the cusp of quitting time, Kurt doesn’t have much of a problem hailing a cab to get back to the loft and relax. He still has a few supplies to pick up for his project, but they can be done at Duane Reade in the morning if need be. Right now he needs to ask the remaining roommate for a favor.

“What’s up, princess?” Santana greets him as she accepts the call.

“I need a favor from you, and seeing as you’re in the middle of Wyoming or whatever this is the only way to ask you.”

“It’s Wisconsin. Mercedes is way too fabulous to have a show where three cowboys show up and two of them are channeling Jake and Heath.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “As if that matters to you with what you and Brittany are probably doing back at the hotel. Anyway, you left one of your flat irons behind and I was wondering if I could borrow it.”

“Why would you need my flat iron?” she asks. “Wait a sec…are you planning a prank on hobbit number two? Without me there? I better receive some incriminating evidence of the photographic variety.”

“No, it’s not a prank. I’m trying some things out with Blaine’s wardrobe, and possibly updating his hairstyle at the same time if he lets me.”

“In other words, you’re giving him a makeover?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Santana cackles loudly enough that Kurt receives a glare from the cab driver. “It’s about time, Hummel. There’s only so often someone should wear polos and bowties a week, and I’m sure he vastly exceeds that number.”

“There is nothing wrong with what he wears, Santana.”

“Then why are you turning him into your personal Ken doll, complete with the plastic hair? Let me guess, his junk is just as manufactured?”

“That’s a pretty invasive question for a lesbian,” Kurt says. “And it’s frankly none of your business as to why I’m doing this.” Then again, he’s not even certain Blaine will want to go through with this, let alone stick with it after the party.

"No such question in my book. Now, why are you deviating away from the prep school grandpa look?"

Kurt realizes he's not getting out of this without Santana nosing her way in. "We're going to a Vogue party and I thought he'd like something new. End of discussion, and please don't text him asking him what he's wearing the moment I hang up."

"So I can do that in an hour?" Santana asks. "I'm kidding, princess. I don't trust what you can do with my belongings between now and the end of the tour. But I'm still going to want those pics to blackmail Warbler McTightPants with."

"I'll see what I can do."

He hears a muffled voice on the other end of the line, followed by a giggle from Santana. "Stop it!" she tells the interrupter, most likely Brittany. "Honey, as soon as I'm off the phone...it's just Hummel, no big deal...maybe another...wait, hold up..."

"Hi, Kurt!" a sweeter voice says into the receiver.

Kurt can't help but smile. "Hey, Brittany. How's the tour going?"

"Oh, it's so fun! I never knew there were other malls outside of Lima, and they look nothing like ours."

"Wow, that sounds crazy," he says, knowing better by now than to correct her. "Are you having fun with Santana and Mercedes?"

"Yeah, except for when Mercedes gets all sad after she talks to Sam on the phone. It's weird, though, I dated him too but he doesn't upset me at all, he makes me laugh."

Kurt bites his lip--he’s missed Brittany’s unique mind. “Sweetie, how would you feel if you and Santana broke up like they did?”

“...Oh. I’d be really sad,” she replies.

“Of course you would; same if Blaine and I did that again.” Kurt cringes as the memory of those six depressingly lonely months come back to him. They’re better now, they communicate as much as they can, and they’re ready for what happens next.

He can hear Brittany talking to Santana again through the line as the cab pulls up to his building. “Hey, Brittany? I have to go, alright? We can talk again later when you ladies have an off day and we can spend a good amount of time on the phone.”

“Okay! Get Blaine Warbler on there, too!”

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Kurt chuckles. “Bye, honey. Have fun ”

“Bye, Kurt!”

Kurt pockets his phone and pulls out some cash to give to the increasingly-impatient cab driver before exiting with his bags. It’s a bit of a struggle getting everything into the apartment building, but he pulls it all through the threshold and takes it upstairs to their home.

The mouthwatering aroma of pork adobo greets Kurt the moment he slides the door to the loft open. It’s one of his favorite meals off the file of recipes Blaine’s mom gave them when he moved to New York--“because how else are you going to get authentic Filipino dinners?” she claimed--and a go-to probably every other week since Blaine moved back in. “Mmm, that smells wonderful,” Kurt says as he pulls the door closed behind him and sets his bags on the floor.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Blaine turns around from the stove and smiles brightly, sending Kurt’s heart fluttering. “This and some of the pancit bihon leftover from Wednesday night on the side, and I don’t have to miss my grandmother’s cooking.”

“Hers is definitely the best.” Kurt pads across the open floor to Blaine and softly kisses him. “But yours is a very close second.”

“What an honor,” Blaine says, returning the smooch. “What’d you buy today? There’s a few more bags there than I was expecting you to come home with.”

“Oh, um, it’s a surprise.”

Blaine cocks an eyebrow. “Really? You know how I am about surprises, honey.”

“I know.” Kurt runs his hand up and down the small of Blaine’s back. “But I promise it’s nothing bad.”

“Do I at least get a hint as to what it is?”

“I don’t know…have you been a good boy lately?”

“I feel I’ve been very good,” Blaine answers with a wink.

“Then you’ll find out what it is in the morning,” Kurt smiles.

“Fine,” Blaine huffs, stepping away from Kurt to pull the pancit out of the refrigerator. “But say I wanted to be prepared for this surprise. Would there be any chance I could…”

“If you even so much as glance at those bags, Blaine, I will hide every last bow tie in this apartment.”

He turns around in shock. “You wouldn’t.”

“Even mine,” Kurt adds, “because I know you’d try to wear one of them if you were so deprived.”

“That’s not even fair!”

“I know you, Blaine. You’ll sneak out of bed to peek into those bags if I don’t find a suitable place to hide them before I fall asleep.”

“And I know you, Kurt. You would never leave new clothing to wrinkle in a bag longer than a couple hours.”

Kurt knows Blaine won. “Fine,” he huffs, storming back over to the bags while Blaine laughs and places the noodles into the microwave. “Do you at least promise not to look if I place them in your garment bag?”

“I promise on account of nobody threatens my neckwear,” Blaine says, mockingly adding a salute.

“You’re a dork,” Kurt replies with a roll of his eyes. He pads over to the storage closet to pull out Blaine’s garment bag and takes it and his purchases behind the curtain into their bedroom. He’s still thrilled with the pieces and hopes Blaine is open to each style he’s picked out. One by one they go on the hangers inside until he’s ready to zip it up and hang it on the end of the clothing rack. By the time he opens the curtain the table is set and Blaine is plating some baby romaine and feta for a salad. Kurt grabs the raspberry vinaigrette from the counter and a bag of almonds out of the cupboard to garnish the plates. Soon they’re eating, enjoying each other, and all thoughts of the makeover have left Kurt’s mind for the evening.

* * *

Saturday mornings in New York are made for sleeping in. They’re made for cozying up in bed with your significant other, only exiting the comfort of bed for food and a trip to the bathroom. They’re made for awkward small talk as new lovers figure out if they approve of last night enough to let the fling continue on. They’re made for brunches and matinees, for family outings to the park, and for tourists to fully understand the ultra-hectic nature of the city.

They are not made for an increasingly agitated Kurt Hummel to be standing inside Duane Reade at 7:12, debating between two brands of hair wax while a homeless man leers at him from next to the condoms.

He knows he should just hit up their hairstylist, Jaimee, when her salon opens at 9. She is well-versed in the intricacies of Blaine’s hair and would have several recommendations for pomades and sprays that would work well and not damage his curls. The stubbornness of his gel use may not be at the level it was after Blaine left Dalton for McKinley, but a step back and some new products a few times may make a difference. 

Kurt settles on a can of mousse and a jar of electric blue hair putty. The homeless man winks at him as he walks towards the register, causing Kurt to flash the metal on his left hand. "Sorry, dear, too late," he coos, and the man frowns in disappointment.

After he pays the bored-looking teen at the register and stops at their favorite bakery, Kurt sneaks into the loft and notices that Blaine is still in bed. He smiles to himself and sets the cronuts out on two plates before hopping in the shower.

Blaine has yet to stir an hour later when Kurt finishes his morning routine. He pads into the bedroom, and instead of grabbing an outfit he kneels onto their bed and starts brushing whisper-soft kisses across his jawline and clavicle. “Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he says quietly.

“Mmm,” Blaine moans. He stretches his limbs out and sleepily peeks through his eyelids, giving Kurt a beautiful glimpse of amber and green. “Good morning,” he says.

Kurt smiles down at him and places a last kiss on his lips. “Morning. Breakfast is waiting for you.”

“I can see that,” Blaine smirks, staring down at Kurt’s dick.

“Oh, shut up! I just got out of the shower, I don’t want you getting me messed up already.” He jumps up and grabs a pair of boxer briefs to pull on. “I’ll meet you out there in a minute.”

“Nah, don’t worry, I’m enjoying this view a lot.”

“You are incorrigible. I almost have half a mind to do away with the surprise altogether.”

“Oh?” Blaine’s interest is peaked, and he crawls out of bed and pads across the room to Kurt. “I finally get to learn about this amazing surprise?”

“After breakfast. Now let me finish getting dressed and we can eat together.” Kurt pats Blaine on the shoulder and rummages through the dresser for a t-shirt.

It doesn’t take long for Kurt to hear a delighted squeal and a “you shouldn’t have!” when Blaine enters the kitchen area. Despite Blaine’s insistence on sticking to the routine he began back after their Stage Combat fiasco, the rare treat of a baked good is enough to make his day. Kurt isn’t surprised when he pops out of the curtain and sees Blaine hunched over his cronut, carefully cutting a bite off and savoring the sweet dough as it enters his mouth. “You are the best fiance ever,” he moans after swallowing. “I think this may be my new favorite flavor.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Kurt smiles and takes his seat, taking a bite of his own cronut and pouring a cup of coffee.

Blaine finishes off the last crumbs--gentlemanly, as he dabs at his mouth with a napkin--and sets his utensils down. “What’s the special occasion?”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asks innocently.

“It’s not like you to be out early on a Saturday, let alone stopping by Nana’s Bakery to pick something up for me. Is this part of your grand surprise?”

“You’re on to me.” Blaine sits back, his face lit up in his victory. “But don’t get too comfortable--I’m giving you a makeover today.”

Kurt watches as Blaine’s elation comes to an abrupt halt. “What?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Just hear me out before you criticize my plan?” Blaine reluctantly nods. “Good. You know how much I love your sense of style, honey. It’s straightforward, a little quirky, and it embodies everything that you are. But sometimes I wish I could see something a little more modern on you. I’m not saying you need to ditch all your polos and bowties--believe me, I love them--but there may be an occasion where they don’t quite fit in, you know?”

“I’m not following you,” Blaine says, shaking his head.

Kurt bites his lip and contemplates another approach. “We have been invited to a lovely Fourth of July gathering at the home of one Isabelle Wright. There will be many people from Vogue in attendance, models, some of her famous pals. Understandably, the attire is set as casually fabulous.”

“How does that translate into giving me a makeover?”

“Blaine, we have to look our best,” Kurt replies. “I know you value the comfort and security your wardrobe offers you, but we need to set the bar high at Isabelle’s and not blend in.”

“So this is just for one night, then?” Blaine asks.

He nods and reaches across the table for Blaine’s hands. “That’s all I’m asking. Today will be to find a suitable ensemble and coiff, and if you don’t like enduring it? Then you can return to your preppy ways and forget this experiment ever happened.”

A faint smile graces Blaine’s face. “You said my hair, too?”

“The oil slick that resides on top of your head will need to be retired for the night, yes.”

Blaine sighs. “Fine. I’ll go along with this, as long as I get a say in what I wear.”

“Oh, of course,” Kurt nods. “In fact, every piece I picked out of you can be mixed and matched. I’ll leave the choices to you.”

“Great.” Blaine stands up and takes his plate and mug to the sink to rinse out. “Is there anything you’d like me to do first?”

“Go ahead and jump in the shower. But don’t fix your hair up after, leave it natural.”

“Kuuuurt,” Blaine whines.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

Kurt smirks. “Then do as I say.”

“Yes, sir.” With a mock salute, Blaine marches off to the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for Kurt to finish the remainder of his cronut and coffee. He stands up and grabs his iPad from the corner of the counter, setting it on the table and refilling his mug as the tablet boots up. A quick check of the news sites and gossip rags gives him no new information, so he switches over to his email and begins typing.

_To: bhummel@hummeltire.com  
Subject: Good morning!_

_Hey, Dad!_

_I know we just spoke on the phone the other night, but I wanted to see what you’re up to? I hope things at work aren’t too busy today, and if they are? Give Keith some of the tasks! I don’t need to be interrupted by a phone call that your stress level put you in the hospital again._

_I didn’t get to discuss our Fourth of July plans with you before. My boss at the magazine has invited Blaine and me to her place for a get-together, with what she claims is the best view of the East River, so the fireworks will be breathtaking. It certainly doesn’t sound like the old picnic and show at the fairgrounds, huh? Today is about finding the right ensemble to stand out with all the A-listers Isabelle may possibly invite...she thinks a very well-known actress and her husband may show up (no, no names to protect the couple, and myself should they back out!)_

_Have you given any more thought to coming up here at the end of July? You need a vacation, Dad, and I’m sure Carole does as well. I think I can manage a couple days away from the diner and Vogue without hurting our finances too badly, and Blaine’s usually done with his piano lessons by 1:30. Let me know soon so we can make arrangements (meaning show tickets, of course! You’ll love Book of Mormon, it was written by the guys who do South Park!)_

Kurt hears the bathroom door open and looks up to see Blaine walk out. His hair, as promised, is drying into the gorgeous ringlets he tries so hard to slick down every day. “I’ll be with you in a minute, let me finish this up,” Kurt says, with Blaine’s smile acknowledging him warming his heart. He turns back to his iPad to finish the email.

_I’m going to wrap this up now so as not to bore you so much. Talk to you sometime next week! Blaine sends his best, as always._

_Love,  
Kurt_

He waits for the acknowledgement that the mail sent, then he shuts the iPad down and pushes it towards the middle of the table. “Okay,” he says as he stands up and stretches, “I’m going to go warm up Santana’s Chi so we can get started.”

Blaine’s mouth drops open. “Um, c-can we leave her toys alone?” he sputters out.

Kurt laughs. “I meant her flat iron, silly. Trust me, you couldn’t pay me enough to go through her ‘things’ anyway.”

“Oh...wait, what are you doing to my hair?”

“You’ll see.” With a smirk, he slips into the bathroom to plug the iron in. It would probably be easier to do it out in the common space, but he prefers having the mirror there so he can judge what he’s doing better. Once it’s heated up to an acceptable, though low at first, temperature, he gets a chair from the “kitchen” and asks Blaine to follow him in.

“I’m sorry, can I see your state licensing before you get started?” Blaine jokes as he takes a seat.

“Oh, you mean this thing on my hand?” Kurt asks, holding his left hand out so Blaine can look at the ring once again. “I think it’s enough proof.”

“I hate you,” Blaine mutters.

“You do not.” He grabs a bottle of heat-protecting spray, spritzes it throughout Blaine’s hair, then combs it in. When finished, he sets the comb down and picks up the iron, fingers a small section of Blaine’s locks up, and runs it through the metal plates. As expected, it isn’t warm enough, so he turns the heat up a few notches and tries again, resulting in a smooth, flat section of hair.

It doesn’t take as long as he expects to completely straighten it, being that Blaine’s hair is shorter and finer than Santana’s. As soon as the last bit is done, Kurt turns off and unplugs the iron, then grabs the pomade he picked up and works it through, bringing the hair up and away from Blaine’s face.

“There we go,” he says as he steps back. “You can take a look now.”

Blaine stands up and glances at him, then he takes a look at his reflection. “Oh, wow,” he breathes out. He gingerly touches the top of the style. “This is incredible!”

“Isn’t it? I figured a bit of a James Dean-meets-millennium hipster feel would work.” And it does work; there’s volume and natural shine that never have the chance to see the light of day due to Blaine’s gel addiction. The new style also does wonders to make the gold in his eyes glimmer and dance. This isn’t the poised private school kid Kurt met four years ago; this is a brand new, sophisticated, downright sexy man who can set the entirety of New York City on fire.

“Yeah, I can see that. You did some magic on it.” Blaine can’t stop primping in the mirror. He finally turns away and plants a smooch on Kurt’s lips. “I love it, so much.”

“I’m glad,” Kurt smiles. “Enough to maybe keep it up more than the shellacking?”

“Possibly, we’ll see.” Another kiss and Blaine is pulling Kurt out of the bathroom. “So now what?” he asks cheekily.

“Now you can go through the clothing I chose and put some outfits together. Shirts, pants, jackets, you can choose which you want to put together. I tried to get items that keep with your clean-cut ways, but with a bit of an edge to bring you out of the country club, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine says. “I’m starting to like this a bit now.”

“Me too.” Kurt sits down on the couch and shoos Blaine into their bedroom. He decides to flip through the television in case Blaine takes some time to choose his first outfit (which, if Kurt’s taught him anything over the years, it’s that perfection can take time). Nothing is on, however (the curses of only paying for basic cable), and he quickly shuts it off and reaches onto the coffeetable for the July issue of Vogue.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s muffled voice sounds from behind the curtain minutes later. “Ready?”

“Sure,” he calls out, setting the magazine down.

The curtain swishes open and Blaine sashays out, his model walk exaggerated. The first outfit is very him at first: basic white dress shirt, jeans with the cuffs rolled up, black and white tie, newsboy hat. The black jacket he’s added makes him stand out, but Kurt isn’t entirely keen on it with the outfit.

Blaine notices the concern written over Kurt’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t know. You look fantastic, of course. It’s just a little…”

“Too me?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says with a reluctant nod. “If you drop the jacket, I could see you in this any day of the week. It’s a nice first effort, though.”

Chagrined, Blaine turns back around. “I’ll do better this time,” he says as he slips back into the bedroom.

His next choice is more daring and hip. Blaine’s paired a gray polo and khakis with a cherry leather jacket. Topped off with a deep chocolate scarf, he turns and gives Kurt a full view of the ensemble.

“Nice,” Kurt says. “I like it.”

“But…?”

“But maybe it’s not very summery? A leather jacket in July?”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who picked it out,” Blaine chuckles. He stands still and stares down at it again. “Maybe I can save this for like, the NYADA welcome mixer? Or add in a cardigan instead of the scarf to make it feel a little more like me.”

“Oh, yeah, that would be nice.” Kurt admires the jacket--it was an afterthought splurge, only $25 when it probably cost the original owner ten times that amount. “Or a weekend coffee date in October, right when Central Park has turned from green to red.”

“My favorite.” Blaine smiles and removes the jacket, hooking it onto his index finger and over his shoulder. The move causes Kurt to crack up. “Oh, like you weren’t waiting for this,” Blaine groans.

“You’re insane,” Kurt says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Blaine’s eyes widen when Kurt holds it up. “Oh, no, you didn’t say anything about pictures.”

“What, I’m not supposed to memorialize the day I got my fiance to try some new clothes out?” He snaps the photo and taps over to Instagram, quickly filtering and posting, _**kurtnyc: @blainedanderson** gets his model on. Too bad he doesn’t meet the height requirement! :D_ before Blaine can snatch the phone away.

“You’re the worst,” Blaine says through laughter as he watches Kurt’s feed refresh with the new post at the top.

“I love you, too.” Kurt takes his phone back and nudges Blaine towards the curtain. “Number three, let’s go!”

“Wow, bossy.” A final push sends Blaine tumbling through the curtain and onto the floor. “You’re lucky nothing ripped,” he calls out.

“Good,” Kurt says, smiling.

The third outfit is the one that makes Kurt take notice. Blaine decided to go with a short-sleeve, lavender button-down, navy blue pants that actually cover his ankles, and a slim white belt. The top three buttons of the shirt are undone, exposing a slice of his tanned chest. He also chose his own patent black dress shoes to wear. The entire look is simplistic, modern, and yet still Blaine.

“Wow,” he breathes out in awe.

Blaine bites his lip. “Is that a good wow?” he asks timidly.

“Oh, my god, yes!” He takes hold of Blaine’s hands and holds his arms out to examine further. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

He drops Blaine’s arms again and takes a walk around. The pants hug his ass perfectly, allowing its prominence to be highlighted, but not overwhelmingly so. A tiny bit of hemming would be needed if this is the outfit chosen, but that’s nothing new due to his smaller stature. The shirt itself is perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders and slim waist. Overall, Kurt is certain Blaine will be the most attractive significant other in the Wright House that evening.

“Are you settled on this?” he asks, his voice a little low as he feels his cock react to the look.

Blaine nods. “Yeah, maybe add in a pair of sunglasses or a silver bracelet? It doesn’t need much more, but I think I’m leaning towards this one.”

“Great.” Kurt sits back down to keep his situation at bay. His fiance is too hot right now with this new look, and it’s nearly impossible not to rush back over and rip it all off Blaine right this second.

“There is one more thing I want to try on, though?”

“Yeah, of course.” He doesn’t think anything can top this, but it’ll give him time to relax. The moment Blaine disappears to change, he begins palming at the strained fabric around the zipper and willing himself not to get any harder. “Please go away,” he hisses to himself.

“What was that?” Blaine asks from the bedroom.

“Nothing!” Kurt replies a little too quickly.

“Okay…”

“Just keep changing, I’m fine.” He finally feels it start to subside, and his breathing begins to slow back to normal. He should know by now to be prepared for this. He remembers the first time he and Blaine went to the mall after they discovered intimacy. Every time Blaine stepped out of a dressing room, Kurt could feel his attraction that much more. Clothing and a gorgeous man? They’re a deadly combination, and more so when said man lives with you.

“Okay, you ready?” Blaine calls.

“Sure,” Kurt says. He turns and faces the curtain, anticipating…

Well, it wasn’t this, because Blaine now looks like he came directly off a Milan runway. A gray blazer with slim lapels popped out; a white v-neck sweater that clings to his chest, and tight black pants? Kurt is so fucked, literally.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks gently. “Are you okay?”

Kurt stands there dumbstruck, all the blood in his body rushing straight to his groin. “Yeah, yeah,” he finally says. “I just…wow.”

“Yeah, I kind of thought I should go over the top for the last one. It’s not too much, is it?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” He takes a few steps forward. “But I do think you should take it off right now.” He slides the blazer off Blaine’s shoulders and surges in, kissing him hungrily.

They stumble into the bedroom and onto their bed before Blaine pushes him away. “Wait, we can’t be messing this up already.”

Kurt cracks up as Blaine gets off the bed and neatly hangs the sweater and trousers back up. “You’ve learned well, my young jedi.”

“A Star Wars reference?” Blaine smirks. “I think you’ve learned as well.”

“Whatever. Now come on, you’re naked and I’m not, what’s the fun in that?”

Blaine sprints back over and slides Kurt’s t-shirt over his head before he attaches his mouth to one of Kurt’s nipples. Kurt bucks up at the heat, eager for more. Hands slink across his waist to undo his fly, then around and under the waistband as Blaine cusps his ass before sliding the jeans and underwear off in one fell swoop.

As one of Blaine’s hands closes around his cock, Kurt moans. “Oh, fuck, I’m not going to last if you do that.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Blaine chuckles.

“Not if I’m wanting to be inside you right now.”

Blaine stares at him with a lustful haze in his eyes. “Then by all means,” he whispers.

They flip positions and Blaine settles against the wall as Kurt climbs over to get the lube and condom off his nightstand. Kurt pours a few drops onto his fingers and warms the liquid up so as not to completely shock Blaine. He slides one finger in, slowly, steadily, then works a second in. “God, you feel so good already,” Kurt says.

“More,” Blaine winces as he adjusts to the stretch, “need more.”

“Hold on, beautiful.” He scissors around to make sure there’s adequate room, then he brings the third one in. Blaine hisses at the intrusion, gripping Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt brings his free hand up and runs it through Blaine’s hair--something he’s always hesitant to do when it’s gelled down, but with the new style his fingers flow smoothly through the locks.

“You look so incredible today,” he whispers in Blaine’s ear. “I didn’t think I could ever be more attracted to you.” Blaine can only nod in acknowledgement. A few more twists of his hand and he looks back at him. “Are you ready now?”

“So ready, always ready for you.”

Kurt smiles as he pulls his fingers out and picks up the condom. He carefully tears the packet open and rolls it onto his cock, lining it up in front of Blaine’s entrance and pulling his legs over his shoulders.

Having the time and space to savor these moments is still a funny feeling for both of them. When they first began discovering the joys of a sexual relationship, the moments were few and far between due to parents, friends, and curfews. Then came Kurt’s move and the breakup, and their realization that Valentine’s Day that a spark could ignite and bring them back, despite the past and the struggle to move forward. But it served to prove they could not break their bond. Even when the reconciliation and proposal came, it was a struggle to find time together through the celebration. When Blaine graduated and relocated to New York, things picked up sparingly, as they tried not to please each other if Rachel, Sam, or Santana were around. Now, finally, they have the time and space to enjoy each other without one leaving for home or someone threatening to barge in and disrupt their activity. And Kurt knows things will only get better. They’ve grown into sex, and at nineteen and twenty-one they’re still so young, still have so much to learn from each other.

He pushes in and pauses, taking a moment to relish the tightness surrounding him. Blaine lies below him, and he’s stunningly beautiful, glowing in the rays of sunlight that stream in through the windows. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to move,” Kurt says.

“Go ahead,” Blaine nods, his breathing picking up.

Kurt carefully slides nearly all the way out before he pushes back in. They know their rhythms by now; Kurt eases into the moment, Blaine goes hard and fast. It takes another three or four moves until they’re working together, grinding in and out, up and down. He reaches down and wraps his hand around Blaine’s cock, already leaking precome down the shaft. Kurt rubs the head a bit as he pulls out, then moves down once he’s back in. “Perfect,” he whispers.

“Fuck,” is all Blaine can say. He grasps the pillow underneath his head and arches up into Kurt. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

“Come for me, love.” Kurt jerks him a few more times before Blaine spills out, over his stomach and up Kurt’s forearm. The moans he hears flood through his ears and make him start pushing in quicker. He can start feeling his own orgasm ebbing up inside, and he knows it’s not going to be much longer. Two more thrusts in, and it hits him hard.

“Holy shit,” he sighs as he comes down from his high. His breath is staggered, and he can barely gather the strength to pull out. Once he does, he slips the condom off and disposes of it in their wastebasket, then stands up.

“No, let me,” Blaine says, easing himself off the bed.

“Blaine, no, you’re a mess.”

“So are you, but you’ve spent all day taking care of me. Let me do this as a thank you.” Kurt obliges, and he settles on the bed. Minutes later, Blaine returns with some warm washcloths and another set of sheets. He swipes the towel over Kurt’s arm, stomach, and finally across his cock to clean him up. Once finished, he takes the other one and works on himself.

Kurt stares at Blaine in admiration. “I don’t know what it is,” he says, “but I think you’re a completely new man.”

Blaine blushes, a shy smile gracing his face and giving a sense of familiarity to Kurt. “I think so, too. I know I wasn’t too keen on this whole makeover idea when you brought it up, but I really am in love with all of this.”

“You are?”

He nods and lays down on his front next to Kurt. “You, out of everyone, know how lost I’ve been feeling this year, like I was no longer comfortable in my own body. The struggles in the workshops, my weight gain, you blossoming and moving further ahead--it all hurt. I knew I needed to do something to wake me up inside and make me feel like the person I should, like a person who belongs here in New York and on the biggest stages.

“You know how I was raised, Kurt. I always had to be the proper boy, in all the proper clothes, and say everything correctly. This?” Blaine runs a hand through his hair. “This makes me feel miles away from Blaine the child and Blaine Warbler. I never imagined I could have hair that didn’t make me look like either a bird’s nest exploded on my head or a Ken doll come to life.”

Kurt laugh hard. “I think your anatomy isn’t as plastic as his.”

“I know that,” Blaine smiles. “When I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, it hit me. You brought what I want to feel outside. I…I’m not going to give up the bowties, you know. And _maybe_ once in a while I’ll leave the apartment with the curls intact. But I can put all of this, the clothes and the hair, into who Blaine Anderson really is.”

“Blaine,” Kurt sighs, “you were already perfect. This doesn’t change you at all.”

“Except it does. Kurt, you’ve been yourself for years without giving a damn what anyone says, while I’ve done everything I can to fit the mold. And now I can finally say that I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t need the country club dinners and the vacation homes; I just need you to help me find myself.”

A tear runs down Blaine cheek, and Kurt wipes it away before gently kissing him. “I love you,” he says softly, “old you, new you, every you imaginable.”

“I love you, too,” Blaine replies, sniffling as a few more run down. “Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you.” Kurt feels his stomach start to grumble. “Why don’t you put the last outfit on, I’ll fix your hair back up since I sort of messed it, and we’ll go to that bistro three blocks away for lunch?”

“Anything for you,” Blaine says with a smile.

* * *

“Hey, Kurt,” a voice calls from behind him. Kurt turns around and comes face to face with Ryan, one of the writers on staff. He’s not someone whom he’s ever had conversation with other than passing salutations in the halls of the Vogue offices.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Who’s that hottie you came in with tonight? I swear I’ve seen him on a few of GQ’s pages before.”

“Who, Blaine?” He glances over to where Blaine is, chatting with Isabelle’s current boyfriend about who knows what sport. He went with outfit number three for the night, and a pair of aviators dangles from the front of the shirt.

“Is that his name? I’ve been calling him Purple Pecs all night, the way they fill out his shirt.”

Kurt grits his teeth as jealousy tinges him red. “Why are you asking?”

“Oh, I was just wondering how serious you two are? Don’t get me wrong, but the last I heard about your love life was that your fiance moved out on you in January. So, you two exclusive or can I get his number?”

Kurt grabs the champagne the bartender had poured for him and swallows it in one gulp. “I’d say we’re pretty exclusive,” he says curtly. His right thumb and forefinger begin twisting his engagement ring around his finger.

“Oh.” Ryan’s expression falls. “Good for you. His ass just looks so perfect for slamming into…”

“I’ll see you on Monday, okay, Ryan?” Kurt sets his champagne flute back down and strides across the living room to where Blaine is. “I’m sorry, Charles, my friend called with an emergency and we have to get going. Tell Isabelle this was a fabulous party and I’ll talk to her when the two of you return from Aruba. Blaine, we have to go, Rachel needs us.”

Blaine stares at him confused. “What? Why would Rachel-”

“We’ll discuss this in the elevator.” He vaguely hears Charles say something about Yankees tickets for Blaine as they make their way to the elevator.

“Kurt, what’s going on?” Blaine asks. “It’s 10:30, the fireworks only finished up half an hour ago.”

“Can you hold on?” he shouts too loudly. Once the doors to the elevator open they step inside and he calls for the ground floor, forty-five floors down. It’s only when the doors close that he slams Blaine up against the side and thrusts his tongue into his mouth.

They make out, Kurt sliding the sunglasses out of Blaine’s shirt onto his head and undoing a purple button to scandalously get his hands inside and feel him. Blaine breaks away. “So Rachel needs us, huh?” he smirks.

“Shut up,” Kurt says in a low, growly voice. “Do you know exactly how hot you are tonight?”

Blaine attempts to fix his hair as they reach the lobby. He’s gone with the new style most of the week, only gelling it down on Wednesday when it was too humid to deal with the mass of curls. Even his wardrobe as a whole has been more relaxed--looser, longer pants and the polos left with the top button undone and no bowtie. “Apparently you do.”

They rush out onto the sidewalk, and Kurt holds his hand up in search of an unoccupied taxi. “Someone claimed he saw you in an issue of GQ. Seriously, you should see if Sam can put you in touch with some of his old contacts.”

Blaine laughs. “At my height?”

“You can do commercial print, department store ads, probably.”

“Wouldn’t you be embarrassed?”

“Hey, if it pays for our wedding, who cares?” A cab driver pulls to the curb and they climb in. “Forty-Sixth and Madison, please,” he gives the driver.

“Wait, where are we going?” Blaine asks.

“Gotham Hotel.” Kurt kisses him again. “I don’t think we can make it home before the fireworks start up again.”

“Oh,” Blaine says as he deepens the kiss. “Good idea.”

Kurt smirks. “I always have the best, don’t I?”


End file.
